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Addiction in
South and East Africa
Interdisciplinary
Approaches
Edited by
Yamikani Ndasauka
Grivas Muchineripi Kayange
Addiction in South and East Africa
Yamikani Ndasauka
Grivas Muchineripi Kayange
Editors
Addiction in South
and East Africa
Interdisciplinary Approaches
Editors
Yamikani Ndasauka Grivas Muchineripi Kayange
Chancellor College Chancellor College
University of Malawi University of Malawi
Zomba, Malawi Zomba, Malawi
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2019
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of
translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval,
electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now
known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information
in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the
publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to
the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The
publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and
institutional affiliations.
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Preface
v
vi PREFACE
We thank all contributors for making this work possible. We also thank
Professor Richard Tambulasi, the principal of Chancellor College, and
Dr. Japhet Bakuwa, the dean of Faculty of Humanities, for allowing us
some days off to put together the chapters of the book. Finally, a huge
thanks should go to members of Philosophy Department at Chancellor
College for encouraging us as we undertook this project.
vii
Contents
ix
x CONTENTS
Index311
Notes on Contributors
xv
xvi NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
xix
List of Tables
xxi
CHAPTER 1
This book focuses on two issues that have characterized modern studies
on addiction, mainly the understanding of the concept of addiction and
the problem of the prevalence of addiction in various cultures, with a spe-
cial focus on South and East Africa.
Pertaining to the general understanding of the concept of addiction,
academics have offered different explanations. The two common ways of
conceptualizing addiction are the Disease Model and the Will Power
Model (Ndasauka et al. 2017). In the Disease Model, addiction is concep-
tualized as a malfunction of a brain process that causes the individual to
engage in a particular activity repetitively and excessively. In the Will
Power Model, it is contended that addiction is a consequence of weakness
of the will, which may be considered as part of a negative disposition
brought about by bio-psycho-socio-cultural factors (Ndasauka et al. 2017).
Although studies in other parts of the world have been divided between
the Disease Model and the Will Power Model, there is no clear academic
development of this concept in the African context, as far as the literature
shows. Apparently, most of the studies have adopted the Western view
and have attempted either to treat addicts as sick (e.g. Liranso and Yosph
2017) or correct their will power by attempting to make them ethical.
The connection with ethics comes from the understanding that the Will
Power Model is reflective of or is a source of unethical behaviours.
Further complications in conceptualizing addiction in the African con-
text come from the fact that in most of the studies there is no clear demar-
cation between the concept of addiction and abuse. In fact, in most of the
studies these terms are used interchangeably (Liranso and Yosph 2017).
However, Mark Griffiths (2005) shows that these concepts are different.
For Griffiths, addiction requires satisfaction of the following components:
salience, mood modification, tolerance, withdrawal, conflict and relapse.
Salience refers to the situation when a given activity becomes a funda-
mental activity in one’s life and dominates one’s way of thinking, feeling
and behaving. Mood modification refers to what an individual reports after
engaging in a particular activity. For example, one may report about feeling
high after an activity. Tolerance regards increasing involvement in a particu-
lar activity in order to repeat the experience that one previously had. For
example, an individual may want to smoke more cannabis in order to repeat
the past experience. Withdrawal symptoms refers to the unpleasant feelings
that are experienced when one reduces or discontinues a particular activity,
for example when one stops exercising and starts feeling uncomfortable,
such as being irritated. Conflict refers to a situation where the addicted
individual enters into conflict with those around him. For example, one
addicted to the internet will enter into conflict with those around him/her
as this will make the individual compromise other activities. Relapse refers
to the tendency of an individual to go back to the addiction status. For
example, after stopping masturbation for a month, one goes back to it.
While the concept of ‘addiction’ requires the fulfilment of all six ele-
ments, ‘abuse’ will only refer to some of the indicated aspect.
Nevertheless, most of the studies (as far as the literature shows) have
focused on the concept of abuse. In line with the emphasis put on the
concept of ‘abuse’, studies in the African context have mainly focused on
substance abuse and some behavioural addiction (Moodley et al. 2012;
Tshitangano and Tosin 2016).
In an attempt to build an African conceptualization of addiction and its
prevalence, this work is divided into five parts.
Part I focuses on the ‘Conceptualization of Addiction’ in the African
context. In Chap. 2, Thaddeus Metz focuses on the African conceptualiza-
tion of addiction in the context of morality. He specifically addresses the
INTRODUCTION: MAKING A CASE FOR ADDICTION IN AFRICA 3
In Chap. 17, Smith Ouma and Jane Wathuta reflect on the prevalence
of tobacco use and addiction in Kenya. They further reiterate the contin-
ued relevance of the Framework Convention on Tobacco Control (FCTC)
and subsequent national legislation to aid the Kenyan government in pro-
moting and protecting public health, while urging the tobacco industry to
maintain high ethical standards in the conduct of their business.
References
Griffiths, M.D. 2005. A “Components” Model of Addiction Within a
Biopsychosocial Framework. Journal of Substance Use 10: 191–197.
Liranso, G.S., and D.M. Yosph. 2017. Drug Addiction and Mental Illness
Treatment in Sub Saharan Africa. Journal of Substance Abuse and Alcohol
5 (3): 1064.
Moodley, S.V., M.J. Matjila, and M.Y.H. Moosa. 2012. Epidemiology of Substance
Use Among Secondary School Learners in Atteridgeville, Gauteng. South
African Journal of Psychiatry 18 (1): 2–7.
Ndasauka, Y., et al. 2017. Received View of Addiction, Relapse and Treatment. In
Substance and Non-Substance Addiction, ed. X. Zhang, J. Shi, and R. Toa.
Singapore: Springer Nature.
Tshitangano, T.G., and O.H. Tosin. 2016. Substance Use Amongst Secondary
School Students in a Rural Setting in South Africa: Prevalence and Possible
Contributing Factors. African Journal of Primary Health Care & Family
Medicine 8 (2): a934. https://doi.org/10.4102/phcfm.v8i2.934.
PART I
Conceptualization of Addiction
CHAPTER 2
Thaddeus Metz
2.1 Introduction
Virtually no one believes that addiction is a good thing, with nearly all
finding it imprudent, and many deeming it also to be immoral. Where
there is normative controversy, it is about why, if at all, one should think
that addiction is unethical, and about whether agents such as the state
ought to punish or otherwise blame addicts. In this chapter, I set aside the
latter issues, which concern how to respond properly to those who are
addicted,1 and focus strictly on the former ones, about their potential
1
For discussion of whether and, if so, how to treat addicts as responsible for their condition,
or for the harmful effects that have come in the wake of it, see Morse (2000); Husak (2004);
the papers in Poland and Graham (2011a); Frank and Nagel (2017); and Pickard (2017).
T. Metz (*)
University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa
e-mail: tmetz@uj.ac.za
2
By “African,” “Western,” and similar geographical labels, I mean features that have been
salient over a large part of a territory and for a long time that differentiate it from many other
territories (on which see Metz 2015a). Hence, there is no “essentialist” suggestion here that
these features are exhaustive of, exclusive to, or invariably present in a given region.
ADDICTION IN THE LIGHT OF AFRICAN VALUES: UNDERMINING VITALITY… 11
and draw out its implications for the immorality of addiction (Sect. 2.3),
after which I do the same for the concept of communal relationship (Sect.
2.4), in both cases contending that their accounts are revealing. I conclude
by raising important questions about addiction that have not been addressed
here, in particular those pertaining to the right ways to respond to those
forms of addiction that are plausibly deemed immoral (Sect. 2.5). I suggest
that the African values are also promising with respect to these issues, which
deserve to be considered elsewhere in depth.
one’s employer and family members. I also suppose that those engaging
in such behaviours would sincerely report that they “could not help
themselves,” “could not stop if they tried,” and the like.
These are what Anglo-American metaphysicians would tend to call the
“surface properties” (Putnam 1975) or “appearances” (Kripke 1980) of
human addiction, that is, what just about everyone familiar with the prop-
erty would ascribe to it, where philosophers, psychologists, and neurolo-
gists debate about what (if any) “deep structure” (Putnam 1975) or
“essence” (Kripke 1980), perhaps a particular operation of the brain or of
the will, might best account for all of them.
Rather than posit a specific, core mechanism with which one might
identify human addiction, I note some characteristic features of it, ones
that are commonly, even if not invariably, associated with the examples
above. First, there is typically a craving, an overwhelming urge, for a sub-
stance such as a drug or a process such as gambling, where the craving is
habitually satisfied. Second, there would often be psychological or physical
pain upon not satisfying the craving and “kicking the habit,” of which the
person is fearful and more generally strongly averse. Third, the craving
and the interest in avoiding pain have reduced a person’s self-control, that
is, her ability to recognize good judgement and to act in accordance with it.
These three are the most widely discussed contributory properties of addic-
tion, with the following ones being more contested. Some would say that a
fourth recurrent feature of addiction is denial, the failure to apprehend one’s
own motivations, to appreciate risks, or to recognize harm one is bringing on
others (Ainslie 2013; Pickard 2016). Others would add a fifth, that often
addiction is a way of coping with or “self-medicating” a psychological wound
or stressor, such as self-hatred or abuse (Khantzian 1997; Pickard and Pearce
2013; Shelby 2016). Still others would suggest a sixth, that addiction, prop-
erly speaking, involves at least the risk of substantial harm to the addict or
those close to her (see especially Pickard and Sinnott-Armstrong 2013).
My claim is not that any particular set of these properties is necessary
and sufficient for something to count as “addiction,” but rather that
addicted people typically exemplify some cluster of them, and that such a
construal of addiction is enough for us to make ethical headway, which is
the aim of this chapter. This approach means that sometimes I will need to
hedge my phrasing, for example, when it is unclear whether the moral
problem is with addiction as such or with a particular form of it. However,
such hedging will not interfere with the ability to point to specific ways of
behaving that are ethically objectionable.
Another random document with
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Even Stephen
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
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you are located before using this eBook.
Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller
Language: English
By CHARLES A. STEARNS
Illustrated by EMSH
"Who are you?" Stephen said. "Why are you running from the
police?"
"Apparently you don't read the newspapers."
"I keep abreast of the advances in technology and philosophy."
"I meant the tabloid news. There is such a page, you know, in the
back of every newspaper. No, no; I perceive that you never would
allow yourself to become interested in such plebeian goings-on.
Therefore, let me introduce myself. I am called Turpan."
"The Bedchamber Assassin! I knew that I'd seen your face
somewhere."
"So you do sneak and read the scandals, like most of your
mechanics' caste. Tch, tch! To think that you secretly admire us, who
live upon the brink and savor life while it lasts."
"I could hardly admire you. You are credited with killing twelve
women." Stephen shuddered.
Turpan inclined his handsome head sardonically. "Such is the artistic
license of the press. Actually there were only nine—until this morning,
I regret to say. And one of those died in the ecstacy of awakening to
find me hovering over her virginal bed. I suppose she had a weak
heart. I kill only when it is unavoidable. But so long as my lady will
wear jewels and keep them on her boudoir dressing table—" He
shrugged. "Naturally, I am sometimes interrupted."
"And then you murder them."
"Let us say that I make them a sporting proposition. I am not bad to
look upon—I think you will admit that fact. Unless they happen to be
hysterical to begin with, I can invariably dominate them. Face the
facts, my stodgy technician. Murder is a term for equals. A woman is
a lesser, though a fascinating, creature. The law of humane grace
does not apply equally to her. It must be a humiliating thing to be a
woman, and yet it is necessary that a supply of them be provided.
Must we who are fortunate in our male superiority deny our natures to
keep from trampling them occasionally? No indeed. 'Sensualists are
they; a trouble and a terror is the hero to them. Thus spake
Zarathustra'."
"That is a quotation from an ancient provincial who was said to be as
mad as you are," Stephen said, rallying slightly, but revising his
opinion of the uncouthness of his captor.
"I have studied the old books," Turpan said. "They are mostly pap, but
once I thought that the answers might be discovered there. You may
set down now."
"But we must be miles from any land."
"Take a look," Turpan said.
And Stephen looked down through the clearing mists and beheld an
island.
There were men and there were women, clamorously cheerful at their
work, unloading an ancient and rickety ferrycopter in the surprise
valley below the cliffs upon which Stephen and Turpan stood.
Stephen, perspiring for the first time in his life, was almost caught up
in their enthusiasm as he watched that fairy village of plasti-tents
unfold, shining and shimmering in the reflected hues of the Molein
aurora.
When Turpan had satisfied himself that there was no danger, they
descended, scrambling down over rough, shaly and precipitous
outcroppings that presented no problem for Stephen, but to which
Turpan, oddly enough, clung with the desperation of an acrophobe as
he lowered himself gingerly from crag to crag—this slightly-built
young man who had seemed nerveless in the sky. Turpan was out of
his métier.
A man looked up and saw them. He shouted and waved his arms in
welcome. Turpan laughed, thinking, perhaps, that the welcome would
have been less warm had his identity been known here.
The man climbed part way up the slope to meet them. He was
youthful in appearance, with dark hair and quick, penetrating eyes.
"I'm the Planner of Flight One," he said. "Are you from Three?"
"We are not," Turpan said.
"Flight Two, then."
Turpan, smiling like a basilisk, affected to move his head from side to
side.
And the Planner looked alarmed. "Then you must be the police," he
said, "for we are only three groups. But you are too late to stop our
secession, sir. The Molein barrier exists—let the Technocracy
legislate against us until it is blue in the face. And there are three
hundred and twelve of us here—against the two of you."
"Sporting odds," Turpan said. "However, we are merely humble
heretics, like yourselves, seeking asylum. Yes indeed. Quite by
accident my friend and I wandered into your little ovum universe as it
was forming, and here we are, trapped as it would seem."
The crass, brazen liar.
The Planner was silent for a moment. "It is unlikely that you would
happen upon us by chance at such a time," he said at last. "However,
you shall have asylum. We could destroy you, but our charter
expressly forbids it. We hold human life—even of the basest sort—to
be sacred."
"Oh, sacred, quite!" Turpan said.
"There is only one condition of your freedom here. There are one
hundred and fifty-six males among us in our three encampments, and
exactly the same number of females. The system of numerical pairing
was planned for the obvious reason of physical need, and to avoid
trouble later on."
"A veritable idyl."
"It might have been. We are all young, after all, and unmarried. Each
of us is a theoretical scientist in his or her own right, with a high
hereditary intelligence factor. We hope to propagate a superior race
of limited numbers for our purpose—ultimate knowledge. Naturally a
freedom in the choice of a mate will be allowed, whenever possible,
but both of you, as outsiders, must agree to live out the rest of your
natural lives—as celibates."
Turpan turned to Stephen with a glint of humor in his spectacular
eyes. "Celibacy has a tasteless ring to it," he said. "Don't you think
so?"
"I can only speak for myself," Stephen replied coldly. "We have
nothing in common. But for you I should still be in my world.
Considering that we are intruders, however, the offer seems
generous enough. Perhaps I shall be given some kind of work. That
is enough to live for."
"What is your field?" the Planner asked Stephen.
"I am—or was—a biological technician."
"That is unfortunate," the Planner said, with a sudden chill in his
voice. "You see, we came here to get away from the technicians.
"I," said Turpan haughtily, "was a burglar. However, I think I see the
shape of my new vocation forming at this instant. I see no weapons
among your colonists."
"They are forbidden here," the Planner said. "I observe that you have
a moisture rifle. You will be required to turn it over to us, to be
destroyed."
Turpan chuckled. "Now you are being silly," he said. "If you have no
weapons, it must have occurred to you that you cannot effectively
forbid me mine."
"You cannot stand alone against three hundred."
"Of course I can," Turpan said. "You know quite well that if you try to
overpower me, scores of you will die. What would happen to your
vaunted sexual balance then? No indeed, I think you will admit to the
only practical solution, which is that I take over the government of the
island."
The officiousness and the élan seemed to go out of the Planner at
once, like the air out of a pricked balloon. He was suddenly an old
young man. Stephen saw, with a sinking feeling, that the audacity of
Turpan had triumphed again.
"You have the advantage of me at the moment," the Planner said. "I
relinquish my authority to you in order to avoid bloodshed. Henceforth
you will be our Planner. Time will judge my action—and yours."
"Not your Planner," Turpan said. "Your dictator."
There could be but one end to it, of course. One of the first official
actions of Dictator Turpan, from the eminence of his lofty, translucent
tent with its red and yellow flag on top, was to decree a social festival,
to which the other two settlements were invited for eating, drinking
and fraternization unrestrained. How unrestrained no one (unless
Turpan) could have predicted until late that evening, when the aspect
of it began to be Bacchanalian, with the mores and the inhibitions of
these intellectuals stripped off, one by one, like the garments of
civilization.
Stephen was shocked. Secretly he had approved, at least, of the
ideals of these rebels. But what hope could there be if they could so
easily fall under the domination of Turpan?
Still, there was something insidiously compelling about the man.
As for Stephen, he had been allotted his position in this new life, and
he was not flattered.
"You shall be my body servant," Turpan had said. "I can more nearly
trust you than anyone else, since your life, as well as mine, hangs in
the balance of my ascendance."
"I would betray you at the earliest opportunity."
Turpan laughed. "I am sure that you would. But you value your life,
and you will be careful. Here with me you are safer from intrigue.
Later I shall find confidants and kindred spirits here, no doubt, who
will help me to consolidate my power."
"They will rise and destroy you before that time. You must eventually
sleep."
"I sleep as lightly as a cat. Besides, so long as they are inflamed, as
they are tonight, with one another, they are not apt to become
inflamed against me. For every male there is a female. Not all of them
will pair tonight—nor even in a week. And by the time this obsession
fails to claim their attention I shall be firmly seated upon my throne.
There will be no women left for you or me, of course, but you will
have your work, as you noted—and it will consist of keeping my boots
shined and my clothing pressed."
"And you?" Stephen said bitterly.
"Ah, yes. What of the dictator? I have a confession to make to you,
my familiar. I prefer it this way. If I should simply choose a woman,
there would be no zest to it. Therefore I shall wait until they are all
taken, and then I shall steal one—each week. Now go out and enjoy
yourself."
Stephen, steeped in gloom, left the tent. No one paid any attention to
him. There was a good deal of screaming and laughing. Too much
screaming.
He walked along the avenue of tents. Beyond the temporary
floodlights of the atomic generators it was quite dark. Yet around the
horizon played the flickering lights of the aurora, higher now that the
sun was beyond the sea. A thousand years from now it would be
there, visible each night, as common to that distant generation as
starlight.
From the shadow of the valley's rim he emerged upon a low
promontory above the village. Directly below where he stood, a
woman, shrieking, ran into the blackness of a grove of small trees.
She was pursued by a man. And then she was pursued no more.
He turned away, toward the seashore. It lay half a mile beyond the
settlement of Flight One.
Presently he came upon a sandy beach. The sea was dark and calm;
there was never any wind here. Aloft the barrier arose more plainly
than before, touching the ocean perhaps half a mile from shore, but
invisible at sea-level. And beyond it—he stared.
There were the lights of a great city, shining across the water. The
lights twinkled like jewels, beckoning nostalgically to him. But then he
remembered that a Molein Field, jealously allowing only the passage
of photonic energy, was said to have a prismatic effect—and yet
another, a nameless and inexplicable impress, upon light itself. The
lights were a mirage. Perhaps they existed a thousand miles away;
perhaps not at all. He shivered.
And then he saw the object in the water, bobbing out there a hundred
yards from the beach. Something white—an arm upraised. It was a
human being, swimming toward him, and helplessly arm-weary by the
looks of that desperate motion! It disappeared, appeared again,
struggling more weakly.
Stephen plunged into the water, waded as far as he could, and swam
the last fifty feet with a clumsy, unpracticed stroke, just in time to
grasp the swimmer's hair.
And then he saw that the swimmer, going down for the last time, was
a girl.
They rested upon the warm, white sand until she had recovered from
her ordeal. Stephen prudently refrained from asking questions. He
knew that she belonged to Flight Two or Flight Three, for he had seen
her once or twice before this evening at the festival. Her short,
platinum curls made her stand out in a crowd. She was not beautiful,
and yet there was an essence of her being that appealed strongly to
him; perhaps it was the lingering impression of her soft-tanned body
in his arms as he had carried her to shore.
"You must have guessed that I was running away," she said presently.
"Running away? But how—where—"
"I know. But I had panicked, you see. I was already dreadfully
homesick, and then came this horrid festival. I couldn't bear seeing us
make such—such fools of ourselves. The women—well, it was as if
we had reverted to animals. One of the men—I think he was a
conjectural physicist by the name of Hesson—made advances to me.
I'm no formalist, but I ran. Can you understand that?"
"I also disapprove of debauchery," Stephen said.
"I ran and ran until I came, at last, to this beach. I saw the lights of a
city across the water. I am a strong swimmer and I struck out without
stopping to reconsider. It was a horrible experience."
"You found nothing."
"Nothing—and worse than nothing. There is a place out there where
heaven and hell, as well as the earth and the sky, are suspended. I
suddenly found myself in a halfworld where all directions seemed to
lead straight down. I felt myself slipping, sliding, flowing downward.
And once I thought I saw a face—an impossible face. Then I was
expelled and found myself back in normal waters. I started to swim
back here."
"You were very brave to survive such an ordeal," he said. "Would that
I had been half so courageous when I first set eyes upon that devil,
Turpan! I might have spared all of you this humiliation."
"Then—you are the technician who came with Turpan?"
He nodded. "I was—and am—his prisoner. I have more cause to hate
him than any of you."
"In that case I shall tell you a secret. The capitulation of our camps to
Turpan's tyranny was planned. If you had counted us, you would
have found that many of the men stayed away from the festival
tonight. They are preparing a surprise attack upon Turpan from
behind the village when the celebration reaches its height and he will
expect it least. I heard them making plans for a coup this afternoon."
"It is ill-advised. Many of your men will die—and perhaps for nothing.
Turpan is too cunning to be caught napping."
"You could be of help to them," she said.
He shrugged. "I am only a technician, remember? The hated ruling
class of the Technocracy that you left. A supernumerary, even as
Turpan. I cannot help myself to a place in your exclusive society by
helping you. Come along. We had better be getting back."
"Where are we going?"
"Straight to Turpan," he said.
"I cannot believe that you would tell me this," Turpan said, striding
back and forth, lion-like, before the door of his tent. "Why have you?"
"Because, as you observed, my fate is bound with yours," Stephen
said. "Besides, I do not care to be a party to a massacre."
"It will give me great pleasure to massacre them."
"Nevertheless, their clubs and stones will eventually find their marks.
Our minutes are numbered unless you yield."
Turpan's eyes glowed with the fires of his inner excitement. "I will
never do that," he said. "I think I like this feeling of urgency. What a
pity that you cannot learn to savor these supreme moments."
"Then at least let this woman go. She has no part in it."
Turpan allowed his eyes to run over the figure of the girl, standing like
a petulant naiad, with lowered eyes and trembling lip, and found that
figure, in its damp and scanty attire, gratifying.
"What is your name?"
"Ellen," she said.
"You will do," Turpan said. "Yes, you will do very well for a hostage."
"You forget that these men are true idealists," Stephen said.
"Yesterday they may have believed in the sanctity of human life.
Today they believe that they will be sanctified by spilling their own
blood—and they are not particular whether that blood is male or
female. If you would survive, it will be necessary for us to retrench."
"What is your suggestion, technician?"
"I know a place where we can defend ourselves against any attack.
There is an elevation not far from here where, if you recall, we stood
that first time and spied upon the valley. It is sheer on all sides. We
could remain there until daylight, or until you have discouraged this
rebellion. It would be impossible for anyone, ascending in that loose
shale, to approach us with stealth."
"It is a sound plan," Turpan said. "Gather a few packages of
concentrates and sufficient water."
"I already have them."
"Then take this woman and lead the way. I will follow. And keep in
mind that in the event of trouble both of you will be the first to lose the
flesh off your bones from this moisture rifle."
Stephen went over and took Ellen by the hand. "Courage," he
whispered.
"I wish that both of us had drowned," she said.
But she came with them docilely enough, and Stephen drew a sigh of
relief when they were out of the illuminated area without being
discovered.
"Walk briskly now," Turpan said, "but do not run. That is something
that I have learned in years of skirmishing with the police."
At the foot of the cliff Stephen stopped and removed his shoes.
"What are you doing?" Turpan demanded suspiciously.
"A precaution against falling," Stephen said.
"I prefer to remain fully dressed," Turpan said. "Lead on."
Stephen now found that, though the pain was excruciating, his bare
feet had rendered him as sure-footed as a goat, while Turpan